


Pretty Boy

by bracari



Category: Dickensian (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Crossdressing, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 06:39:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6273739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bracari/pseuds/bracari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur Havisham receives a special package and feels slightly confused as to how to react.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty Boy

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Master of Satis House](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6212851) by [MildredMost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MildredMost/pseuds/MildredMost). 



> Inspired by InfernalWorld's Expectation series, especially 'Hard Times' and 'The Master of Satis House'. Her porn inspired more porn. Plus I was in a velvet robe the other day and the dress-up came to me.

When Arthur arrived home at last, having fended off the maid for the last time by telling her that no, he would not have lunch that day and he’d much prefer to be left alone, she’d nodded and made off for whatever it was maids did when their mistresses were out. Before she had completely vanished around the corner, however, she turned back and informed him of a package that had arrived and she had placed in his room.

Arthur opened the door with trepidation. He had not ordered anything since Compeyson had been creative with his last purchase. He was quite content without having to worry about what that demon would think of next. His arsehole could only take so much.

Like the maid had said, a package waited for him, inconspicuously laid on his bed. The shape of the brown wrapping paper seemed to suggest that clothing rested inside, but not much else could be taken from the find. As he took off his coat and set in the chair, he noticed a small card lying there, just signed with an  _ M _ . Arthur swallowed. He’d figured as much. He wasn’t surprised at all that Compeyson would guess he’d set his jacket on the chair before wondering too much about the package. He was good at predicting Arthur’s moves and his hesitations.

Returning to the package, he supposed that hiding it and hoping it would go away would be useless because Compeyson would definitely ask about it during dinner, in front of Amelia, and Arthur wasn’t after a provocation. 

Squaring his shoulders, he untied the string and gently pried the paper open.

It was red and, hadn’t the cut been so obvious, he’d might have mistaken it for a jacket. As the glittering neckline was right under his hands, he could not pretend for it to be so. He jumped back as if burned.

Why on earth had Compeyson bought a dress and sent it to Arthur’s room? He couldn’t have possibly mistaken it for the one he shared with his wife and it was unlikely the servants had misplaced a gift meant for his sister. So it wasn’t a question of why he had sent it to Arthur’s room but  _ why he had bought him a dress in the first place _ .

He’d ask him what sort of jest this was and why he had been so adamant in Arthur not spending any unnecessary money when he had just bought him a useless gift. Was it a taunt or a jab at his masculinity? Probably, but it did not fit Compeyson’s usual tactics of tormenting Arthur. Now that he had settled himself in Satis House, everything had gone exactly his way. He was master of the house in almost every sense of the word, he managed to keep Amelia blind to his endeavours and he had more money than he’d ever had. His survival and prosperity was assured for years to come. Compeyson being Compeyson, however, found that lacking in the usual excitement that seemed to define his life. His solution had obviously been Arthur. Poor Arthur, who had a secret. Weak little Arthur who actually liked what Compeyson did to him and begged for more in deeds, if not in words.

All of Compeyson’s stratagems were of a sexual nature and Arthur did not understand how the dress fit in that pattern. Was it supposed to make him insecure? To make him remember how he submitted to Compeyson with the weakest resistance?

“Well, then, you villain.” He muttered as he stroked the fabric with the tip of his finger “I shall endeavour to prove you’re wrong, if only to me.”

He started to undress, still staring at the offending item. It wasn’t as if he was degrading himself. There was nothing wrong with a dress. If he could be honest with himself - and it was a rare gem the moment he actually was - he had wondered, for quite a while. It took him back to his schoolboy days, when all the boys spoke of girls in pretty dresses and Arthur had half-wished to wear one, just to see if he’d get some attention. Maybe they’d be more eager to go further than a kiss or fumblings in the dark. He had wished to be different then, to want to be pleased with the furtive kisses excused by the lack of the female gender. When Compeyson had started to seduce Amelia, even knowing the insincerity of his actions, Arthur had wished to be in the place his sister occupied. Why would he care about being deceived when the tenderness of courting would have rendered his myopia inconsequential? What he could gather from their married life spoke of a beatific union. What he and Compeyson had was anything but that. He once again envied his sister for what she had and he could not.

Once he got to his underthings he hesitated. There was no reason for him to remove them. The dress would fit easily with the added clothing beneath. He knew his sister usually wore several things beneath, like a corset and bloomers, garments far more spacious than he usually wore. Curiosity made him think twice. He wondered how the fabric would feel against his legs, if it would scratch or slide. He got rid of the rest of the clothes and approached the package. The colour was splendid, very close in tone to his favourite jacket. The neckline was straight, not too revealing and there was a motif with the beads that detailed it.Velvet lined the seams, the deepest red he’d ever seen. The bust flared out with some excess fabric that Arthur understood as built to accommodate the breasts. He picked it up and was surprised at how heavy it was. The sleeves had a sort of pleat in the shoulders and then puffed out at the elbows, only to narrow at the forearms again. He wondered if that part would fit him. The waist seemed large enough.

Stepping backwards, he dragged the dress until it hit the floor. It was perfect for his height. Once again Arthur thought of Compeyson buying him this thing, only now he felt a twisted satisfaction. What sort of prank would involve a dress with perfect measurements? Why would he need to look good whilst being mocked? It would serve no purpose he could ascertain.

He approached the full-length mirror next to the closet. It presented a stark contrast, his naked body standing with a waterfall of red streaming from his hands. His masculine body and the effeminate garment in the warm afternoon light. He felt a thrill running across his spine. How lewd.

He unbuttoned the dress, noticing there was no petticoat attached. The shape wouldn’t be right. Raising the dress over his head regardless of the properness of the result, he let it slide across his body, feeling the silky kiss of fabric across his face and chest. Letting the skirt fall to the floor, he was pleased with the slight catch on his hairs, the rustle on his knees. The touch on his cock.

He occupied himself with the sleeves next, and they were a hassle to deal with indeed. He’d never mock women’s puffy monsters they called sleeves ever again. He had to stick his left arm twice before he managed to completely match the inclination of the cuffs.

The last - and trickiest part - was the back. As much as he tried, he could not close the buttons. He did not know how Amelia did it. Maybe it was Mary. Now that he thought of it, maids really were necessary for this function! After he managed to close only three and leave the top three unbuttoned, he gave up and understood that wearing a dress is a two-person task. Concentrated in buttoning up the dress, he had not looked at the mirror once. When he did catch a glimpse of himself, his breath stuttered.

He had rushed into the act and not considered how he would look afterwards. Now that he did, he found it difficult to associate the figure he usually struck - from a posh schoolboy to a drunk and belligerent man and then a burden to his sister - with what he saw now.

The dress suited him, to say the least. The sleeves were ridiculous as he had thought, but the rest was rather lovely. The fabric sagged a bit in the chest area, as he thought it could, but the rest was perfect. Too perfect, he thought. He had considered his face would strike a greater contrast than it did. His hair, which had grown longer than he usually allowed it to, still allowed for his neck to be exposed. In the deepest confines of his heart and soul of which utterances no other person would ever reach, he found himself pretty. And he liked it.

He looked around, even if it was his room and no-one usually disturbed him. Appeased with the result, he looked back at the mirror and gave an experimental twirl. The skirt whirled around his legs, allowing for a flash of his bare ankles. He felt good, he noticed with some surprise.

Looking back at the mirror with a smile, he startled at the sight of a wicked grin.

“C-Compeyson!” he exclaimed, uncomprehending of how he had missed him standing there. If he hadn’t been there when he last check, he had managed to slip in unnoticed somehow. He felt himself blush profusely.

“Good afternoon, Arthur.” Compeyson greeted, grin still plastered over his mouth. Arthur suppressed the will to curtsey. The man was cocky enough.

“What are you doing in my rooms?” he gritted out, painfully aware that he was facing Compeyson alone with a dress. He really should be wearing an armour.

Compeyson’s smile only widened. “I was only checking if you had gotten my gift.”

“I have.” Arthur replied, breathing in deeply. What was the man doing here? “Now if you could please go.”

“No, thank you. I’d rather stay.” he replied, sitting down besides the wrapping paper and turning to take in Arthur’s figure. Arthur swallowed under his scrutiny and dragged a hand across his face. He’d figured the event would not pass without some sort of persecution.

“I knew it’d be your colour.” Compeyson remarked after a long moment, splaying his hands behind his back on the bed. Arthur felt his throat close up against an insult. He didn’t feel too confident on fighting him off with a dress on. Compeyson was already stronger without the added nuisance of ruffles and puffs.

“Why did you buy me this?” he asked instead, hands closing in fists.

Compeyson just beckoned him near and Arthur, who was indeed curious and had no self-preservation whatsoever, walked the few steps from the mirror to the bed. When he stopped, he took care to be a foot away from the man, even if it wouldn’t matter in the long run. The best possible outcome from this would be insults. That he could handle. He looked down, sighing against the inevitability of what Compeyson had to offer to him and hoping to react as best a possible.

“You look so pretty.” Compeyson asserted. The grin had subsidized into a more tame version, a lop-sided thing that made Arthur’s heart stutter and, as always, feel rather hot. His cock was starting to swell. The contact of the fabric on it was aggravating and the fact it belonged to a female garment seemed to only serve as encouragement.

“Don’t insult me.” he spat back, trying to get some handle of the situation.

“For the first time ever, I am not.” Compeyson confessed, lifting his hand and resting it on Arthur’s waist. He felt for the pleats and beads, played with them for a bit before hitching the hand highed. “You look so much prettier than Amelia.”

Arthur felt a surge of indignation at the mention of sister’s name and stepped away from Compeyson’s hand, knowing better than to slap it off. He stepped back. Of course this dress would be for Amelia, how silly of him. He had thought the measurements perfect, but maybe it hadn’t been tailored yet. Maybe it was a standard dress and Compeyson had managed to both insult him and buy his wife a gift on the same try. He needed to compliment him on the economy of his plan, but before he would remove the dress and thus eliminate the event from his mind. He reached for the buttons he had managed to do and froze at the second one. He was naked underneath. He had forgotten it.

Compeyson had not moved a muscle during his internal debacle but had clearly noticed Arthur’s discomfort.

“If you could please leave.” Arthur said to him, hands on his waist. He tried to look at the window, at the outside street, everything that wasn’t that bastard’s face. He felt his own already burning as it was, he did not need Compeyson to make it worse.

He heard a gasp and looked involuntarily at the bed again. Compeyson smirked at him, got up and squatted down at Arthur’s feet. Arthur was confused for a moment and then felt the light touch on his ankle. He bit down on his lips, cursing himself for being so obvious. As Compeyson lifted the hem, inch by torturous inch, Arthur felt himself growing harder. Trying to regain some composure, he fisted the fabric on his lap with both hands and pushed down. It turned out he didn’t need to do as much because Compeyson only lifted the dress to the knees before dropping it down with a small gasp.

He got up then, leaving Arthur trembling with his hands on his lap.

“You’re a very obscene boy, aren’t you Arthur?” he whispered. His voice was so low Arthur felt the hairs on his body stand up. Compeyson’s face was one of unguarded lust and Arthur felt a small victory in that expression.

“You bought it!” he exclaimed, trying to get Compeyson away from him. Befuddle him and all his schemes! He had had quite enough of this already.

As he moved to step towards his bed, he was surprised at a soft touch on his pulse, just underneath the lacy cuff. He startled towards Compeyson and whimpered against the kiss that followed. When they parted, Arthur chased after him. Compeyson chuckled and grazed his knuckles across Arthur’s lips, denying him another kiss.

“Why are you being so gentle?” Arthur asked, frowning.

“I thought you liked it.” Compeyson replied, not really answering the question.

Arthur did not contradict the statement, fearing the change a wrong answer would bring to his behaviour. If he said that he liked it, the caresses might stop out of Compeyson’s wish to contradict him or somehow be turned into a weapon. If he admitted to liking the usual roughness of their tumbles, he wouldn’t be able to deny it when Compeyson told him he craved his violence.

“What are you up to?” Arthur asked again. Not quite the previous question, but it bore the same weight. He felt like he was being played but had yet to figure out the game.

“I simply saw the dress and thought it would look good on you.” Compeyson asked, turning them around and pushing Arthur onto the bed. “If you want me to be rougher, I think you still have that cane around.”

Arthur sat upright in the mattress. “I prefer it like this.”

Compeyson nodded, kneeling on floor and looking up at Arthur. He could not understand how he could so innocently look on at him, as if he hadn’t shoved a stick up his arsehole just the other day. The dress, calling him pretty and now showing this sort of gentleness. It was as if he was treating him like he did Amelia.

He gasped and shoved his hand onto Compeyson’s chest, keeping him at a distance.

“I’m not my sister.” he gritted out.

“I know you’re not.” Compeyson retorted, looking briefly at Arthur’s crotch “Nor any woman.”

Arthur felt himself preen under his gaze, his cock swelling considerably at the attention. Sometimes he hated the lack of conviction shown by his body. His mind was already so weak.

“Stop treating me like one, then.”

Compeyson nodded slowly, then allowing for a grin to grow on his lips. Arthur noticed his hand moving but refrained from kicking him in the chin, curious to what he would do. When he heard the telltale rustle of the fabric again, he guessed where he was putting it. He hitched his touch higher on his leg, resting briefly on his knee.

Arthur knew those terrible hands very well, knew their squeeze on his throat, their strength on his cheek, their fingers on his hole. He knew how much they could destroy him, and how much they made him enjoy it. He had never known them like this, so tame and pleasant. It confused him immensely.

“What do you want from me, Compeyson?” He asked, painfully aware of his cock swelling and touching the fabric on his lap. Compeyson could probably see that. He saw everything.

A smile was his only answer, and that alone made him afraid. Compeyson wouldn’t miss an opportunity to taunt, to make his voice heard and insinuate his desires into another’s mind. As he raised the fabric up to Arthur’s knees and nudged his legs open, Arthur looked for something else in the room, a catch, something hidden away that would turn the tenderness into monstrosity. There had to be something, he thought desperately, something he could actually prevent. Now if he just could get an answer from-

His reasoning was cut short as he felt the slick caress of Compeyson’s tongue on his cock. He staggered slightly backwards with a surprised moan. A moan he managed to deepen at the sight before him. Compeyson, kneeling down at his feet, sucking his cock underneath a dress. 

He widened the space between his legs almost unconsciously, allowing for Compeyson to come nearer He had never been this aroused in his life. He was still weary about the circumstances of this happy event, but he wasn’t about to say anything that would ruin the moment. He shivered as Compeyson gripped his thighs firmly. His fingers would leave a bruise and Arthur found comfort in that. He didn’t care what it said of him, that the remembrance of tenderness once given would keep him going. It sounded pathetic, but having Compeyson between his thighs made him feel like he was winning. He was so tired of losing to him and his whims.

“Oh god…” Arthur moaned as Compeyson flicked his tongue on his slit. His hands rubbed circles on the connection of thigh and pelvis and Arthur felt he would go mad with the friction. He covered his mouth with a hand and led the other to Compeyson’s hair. It felt silkier than the dress, and far more enjoyable to rake his fingers through. As he did so, however, Compeyson stopped.

Peeking from underneath the dress with a mighty glare, he slapped Arthur’s hands away and shoved him unceremoniously onto the bed. Arthur’s upper body fell backwards with a small, confused groan before he felt Compeyson work on his lower body again, kissing upwards from knee to cock. As he started to suck him again, Compeyson gripped his knees and nudged them up. Arthur was completely opened to him now, the fabric flowing in waves around his waist. He tried to tease his own nipples, to occupy his hands, but the fabric across his chest rendered his attempts useless. It was too tight for him to actually lie in it.

He tensed up when he felt a fingertip entering his hole, adjusting quite soon afterwards when Compeyson kepthis mouth busy. He noticed, to some degree of mirth, that he couldn’t quite fit Arthur’s cock in his mouth either. He compensated by licking him off with enthusiasm, but he couldn’t completely swallow him up as they both knew Arthur could. He relished in that other small victory and gave in to Compeyson’s fingers, now double in their penetration. When he felt his fingers slid in and out with greater ease, he arrested his ministrations and raised himself up. Arthur whined at the duplicate loss, but welcomed Compeyson in the V of his legs.

The dress had completely risen up during their activity, thus exposing the graceful curve of Arthur’s prick, flushed pink and glistening with Compeyson’s saliva. Arthur felt out of breath with arousal and his hands found the bottom hem of the dress. He tried to rub it on himself, to get the relief Compeyson had denied him, but his hands were seized abruptly by Compeyson’s and placed above his head. Thus immobilized, he could do nothing else but stare up at the man, who had been proficient in the time he had stopped working with his mouth and had unbuttoned his trousers. His cock hung heavy and, as he bent down to better adjust his grip on Arthur’s restrained hands, accidentally grazed his, making them both cry out in pleasure.

“See what happens when you don’t bite the hand that feeds you, darling Arthur?” Compeyson whispered against his ear.

Arthur’s legs felt weak and it was hard to keep his knees bent like that. He had never been blown thus, even if he had yet to reach his climax, and the will to retaliate and oppose to the man above him had dissolved long ago. As his legs collapsed to either side of Compeyson’s torso, he felt the prodding at his hole. He flinched at the persistent drag of Compeyson’s cock, relentless until he had been buried to the hilt inside Arthur. By the time Compeyson started to move, Arthur was whimpering his name, begging him to do so.

“I’m not as evil as you make me out to be.” Compeyson told him, gripping his hands tighter “If you weren’t so annoyingly defiant, I’d show it more often.”

Arthur completely disagreed with that opinion and nearly scoffed, but he wasn’t about to contradict Compeyson when his cock gave him the most delicious burn. The man above him had to adjust the dress upwards when it rode down again and Arthur felt the trim of the skirt tickling his throat. He huffed a laugh and Compeyson took it as a challenge. Driving his hips deeper into Arthur, he angled himself so he could better hit that spot that made him see stars with every thrust.

When Arthur reached his climax, he was surprised by the softness of Compeyson’s mouth on his, hips driving forward with increased rhythm until he too reached his peak. Spending inside Arthur with a groan, he caressed his jaw through final thrusts. The sweetness of the gesture made Arthur want to cry and when Compeyson slid out of him, he felt like he was going to. Compeyson stared into his eyes, close enough for Arthur to give him a final kiss and feel the stubble on his face. He was still Compeyson alright, dark eyes and darker intentions. He wondered how long it’d take him to figure out the second part.

The man got up and straightened himself out. Arthur made the most of the fragile moment,  raising himself to a sitting position, covering himself up with the crinkled fabric and turning his face away from Compeyson. In the stillness of the bedroom, the sound of their combined breaths seemed to forestall a moment of cruelty, an initiation of brutality or a demand for a favour. When none came, Arthur returned his gaze to his sister’s husband.

“Are you going now?” he asked, feeling his throat close around the sound. Compeyson did not reply, but lifted his hand and brushed his fingertips across Arthur’s curls, lightly touching his cheek as if by accident. Arthur swallowed a whimper as Compeyson gave him a thorough look and, as suddenly as he had appeared, left with the warmth of the room.

Arthur lay on his side, feeling the give of the mattress, and cried.

The dress was gone the next day. Arthur did not think much of it, he preferred it this way. He had cried himself to sleep and woken up to the insistent knocking of the maid calling him to dinner, him apparently having slept through the gong. Shouting back that he’d like to have dinner on his own room, he set to take off the dress and shove it on the bottom of his closet. 

He had gone out the following morning and found no trace of red fabric or the package in the room when he came in again. As he had shoved the card into his wallet, it was the only physical proof of what had transpired. Arthur was half-tempted to discard it and forget the whole business when he found Compeyson sitting quietly at the table at around lunch time. 

Simply sitting opposite the man as it was their usual disposition, he muttered a greeting and silently awaited his sister arrival. She had requested his presence specifically because ‘Really, Arthur, it’s been too long since we’ve sat down as a family. Can’t you do this for me?’. Arthur knew Compeyson had gone to extremes measure to ensure his way into Amelia’s heart and understood that her trust, once given, would be stronger than every piece of evidence contradicting her affections. Arthur wondered, however, if he had underestimated her intelligence. He wondered if that would be his ultimate downfall and if his impulses would get the better of him. She had already noticed the tension between husband and brother. Perhaps it would not take long for them both to be disgraced by their own indiscretions.

When she came with a cheerful greeting and a bright smile, he found himself unable to get up to greet her as courtesy demanded. 

Kissing Compeyson first with a soft peck on the lips, she was confused at the sight of her brother still sitting down. Surely dismissing it as a mood of his, she bent down and kissed him on the cheek. He felt the slight drag of the silky sleeve on his wrist as she held his hand and asked if everything was alright with him. He nodded, saying he was just a bit peaky from something he ate.

“Yes, sister. Your dress is...very beautiful.” he managed to mutter, afraid to look at her in the eyes.

She visibly brightened up at the compliment.

“Meriwether bought it as a gift. He says it’s been six months, though I cannot quite believe him.”

Arthur gave her a small smile, looking into his lap and noticing the ruffles he had tried so hard to fit his arm into. The details on the waist that Compeyson had so lovingly ran his hand across just the day before, only on his body. The hem that could have easily ripped with how hard he had fucked Arthur. He felt himself flush.

“It’s been six months since I fell in love with you.” Compeyson declared, voice airy and entirely wrong. Arthur wished to punch him.

Amelia moved from his side to Compeyson’s. Compeyson put his hand on her waist, and Arthur found himself growing hard, recalling the exact same motions from the previous day on his own body. 

“Well, it’s about time you knew my measurements.” she complained “I’ll have to fit the dress tomorrow. I’m afraid it’s a bit too loose on me.”

Compeyson chuckled. “I am terrible with this. You must definitely teach me all about it.”

“I’m hardly the expert. If you want to learn about fashion you should definitely ask Honoria.” she said, becoming momentarily sad at the thought of her friend’s name. She had gone away, had she not? Arthur could no longer remember exactly the reason, but there had been a marriage quite soon after Amelia’s. 

Compeyson squeezed her hand in an affectionate manner, and she smiled back at him. Arthur coughed, startling Amelia out of her recollections.

“I’m sorry, you must be hungry. I must tell the maid to serve lunch.”

Compeyson had planned for this, he thought as he ran his hand across her sleeves as they parted. When he was safe she was in the other room, Arthur turned to Compeyson, who looked very pleased with the turn of events.

“You are a fiend.” Arthur hissed towards his companion.

Compeyson raised his eyebrows and grinned.

“Tonight I am going to have your sister in that dress. The same dress I had you in yesterday, if you recall.” he said, leaning forward “I am not the only fiend here, pretty boy.”

Arthur could not fight the way he grew harder at the compliment, remembering Compeyson calling him just that before starting to suck his cock. He was glad for the table between them or he would have lunged at him, consequences be damned. Compeyson was cat-like in his satisfaction and Arthur half-expected to be purred at.

At his sister’s return, he sighed in relief but knew that the dinner would be hell with the two of them exchanging pleasantries and him half hard at the table.

“What’s wrong with you, brother?” Amelia asked, sitting down as the meal was delivered to the table “You look pale.”

“You mean, paler than usual?” he retorted, heart warming at the sight of his sister’s concern, blind and misplaced as it was.

“You have been rather nervous lately, I’ve noticed.” she genially observed. The amount of things she did not notice outside the brewery could fill entire books.

“You should go on a vacation.” she advised. Arthur blinked.

“That would actually be...perfect.” he replied. Any time away from Satis House at the moment, much as he liked to pretend he owned it, was a jolly good time. Him at the beach enjoying the sun, lying on a mattock and sleeping his worries away. Taking long baths and washing the grime that came from touching the body of a dirty, insidious man like Compeyson more often than he should. He would come back refreshed and ready to fight for his place at his childhood home. He could kiss his sister for the joy she had brought him!

A voice interjected the flow between the siblings.

“I’d rather enjoy it myself, actually. These London airs are are too noxious on my lungs.” He explained. Amelia immediately sought his hand.

“You should have said sooner.” She admonished, gently stroking his fingers. The lace on the cuffs grazed the pad of Compeyson’s thumb. Arthur felt like screaming.

He turned to glare at the demon sitting across him. His eyes, however, were widened in fake enthusiasm and Arthur could not look for long, lest he be bewitched and deceived again.

“Well, I can’t go because of the brewery. We are due a new shipment of material in the next month and I can’t afford to be away from London when it arrives.” She informed them, looking very pleased about all the business she had to attend to. “Why don’t you both go?”

Arthur was about to notify her on how terrible an idea that was, but found himself cut short by Compeyson speaking again.

“I’d be delighted to spend more quality time with my new brother.”

Arthur wanted to squeeze the air out of Compeyson’s so weak lungs. His glare had not gone unnoticed by him and the smirk he wore was just for Arthur. Amelia was oblivious as always, saying something about how she’d see it done and returning to her meal. 

Brother and brother-in-law stared at each other across the table and Arthur hated that his body responded so strongly to that. He hated how they would apparently spend time alone and knew that bore no good news for himself. He hated how his happiness had been just momentary and hated himself for knowing deep inside he did not deserve better.

**Author's Note:**

> I definitely want to write about that vacation...  
> And yes, Arthur is such a pretty boy.


End file.
